


In Hostile Land

by TheAngryOne



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: M/M, elite purple, elite red, irken elite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAngryOne/pseuds/TheAngryOne
Summary: It was a routine mission, a standard part of their training as Elites- get in, strike, and leave.But it didn't go to plan.
Relationships: Almighty Tallest Purple/Almighty Tallest Red
Comments: 1
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another of my old stories from my writing days- one i'd like to pick up again at some point. Was originally meant to be a comic, but my commitment skills arent the best! I love anything set in their Elite days...

This wasn’t like Red.

They’d completed hundreds of these assignments in their lifetimes; sneaking behind enemy lines, placing bombs and sabotaging software, destroying their designated target, retrieving the information they’d been commanded to find. It was all trivial. It was all practiced and perfect- only going astray where Zim was involved in something crucial- and Red and Purple were masters of this game, often designated leaders for both their height and skills.

But this time Red had not made it to the rendezvous. 

Purple willed his pak legs to move quicker, their nimble tips kicking dust and stones loose from the barren dead planet- the smoking, cracked buildings growing closer. The base ahead was still reeling from the Irken attacks. This outpost had been tolerated by Irk for generations for the simple purpose of Elite training. The native race- a bulky, armored lizard-like species called the Morallv,  _ hated  _ Irkens with an absolute fury, and though it would take only a single blast from the newly constructed ‘Massive’ to wipe them from existence, they forever proved to be a good exercise for the Elite training. Get in, sabotage their weapons, upload crippling malware to their computers, blow up a few barracks on the way out- and by the time they recover, the next generation of Elites would be ready to sink their sharp claws into the outposts beating vitals.

Purple lived for challenges like these, he and Red would share excited ideas for how they would handle upcoming attacks, they’d make bets with each other on who could do the most, move the quickest, break the most,  _ kill  _ the most.

If there were any doubts that they’d return, they were never so much as joked about; both knew in unspoken beliefs that if it were enough to kill them, it would kill them both.

Yet Purple charged on, alone.

Somewhere behind him he heard the sound of a familiar engine- _ growing distant. Ascending. _

He glanced back in time to see the Elite flagship blip out of existence and disappear into the sandy-colored sky above him. A pang of doubt shook through his ‘spooch- Was this the right choice?

The pak legs slowed to a halt, faltering for a moment as their suspended master dropped a few inches in space. He could still hail them and return to his home.

Purple let his antenna drop as his eyes closed; he thought of ‘home’- the Empire. The organised, efficient war machine was as close as an Irken knew to a ‘home’. He had a place amongst it, an expectation. He imagined himself returning to training, carrying on his classes, his assignments, and eventually ascending to something greater when it was all complete but he could feel a cold, wicked sensation enveloping him as he tried to picture it all- a void, an emptiness- an  _ absence _ . His imagined self stood in solitude, without the familiar, red-eyed Irken smirking slyly at his side. He opened his eyes again and exhaled. That lonely world was not his. 

Deftly his thin claws pecked at holographic keys on his gauntlet and a screen appeared in a blip above it, Irken doom scrawled across the intangible screen. He ignored the usual information- his rank, his location, his Pak status- and he keyed in the ID for Reds Pak. He was so accustomed to checking on his partner when they were separated, he was confident he could recite Reds unique ID number backwards.

The display brought up the information in a blink. Though limited by the void of space, the Empire kept tabs on all things- even if it meant only basic information- and from the little he had available, Purple could confirm at the very least that Reds Pak was still active.

He dismissed the screen with a single swipe. The thin spiked lances of his Pak resumed their pace.

\--

The lesser ones were trying to hide their panic, trying to mimic their leaders stoic scowl.

Ever since they’d been dropped in this small, damp cell block, there had been fear emitting from the smaller Elites. Red, being both the most skilled and the tallest, was immediately looked to for guidance. But all he could manage was to bark them into submission- his mind occupied by the simple fact that he, an Elite- one of the  _ best  _ of his generation- had been  _ captured _ .

He kept mulling the thought over in his mind, it’d all happened so quickly he could barely see where he’d faltered. He analysed it again and again- there had been a distraction, something stole his attention, and the beast he faced took the opportunity to strike him down.

The smaller Irkens were expected to be here. They were weak, not as clever, not as fierce- the only surprise that Zim and Skoodge hadn’t ended up here too, and that added more insult than Red ever dare mention. He had been relieved to find that Purple was not among them.

The Elite to his left whimpered pitifully, the only acknowledgement it received from Red was a warning glare.

Carefully, accompanied by a hiss of air through his teeth, he pulled the gauntlet of his right arm into his lap. The three claws protruding from it no longer did his bidding and hung limply from the end. Further up, jagged angular pieces jutted from his shoulder- all that remained of the armor there- he picked at one piece meekly as he considered pulling it free. He thought better of it and tapped the display on his right gauntlet. There was signal, but it was only enough to keep his Pak connected to the Empire and to maintain its life-giving functions.

Metal scraped on metal as the cell door opened abruptly. A sizeable beast sauntered through the door, shooting a sadistic toothy grin around the room as it entered. Hot air snorted out of its thick round nostrils, and a bassy rumble emitted from the leathery, armor-clad chest as it chuckled.

“Hello little bugs.”

_ Stomp _ . It stepped to the nearest Irken.

“Who wants to go first?”

Kneeling down to the quivering bugs level, the Morallv draped an arm lazily over its knee. The huge rounded underbite still turned upwards in an unsettling smirk.

“We know enough about you little insects to know that you’re  _ all  _ extremely knowledgeable on your Empire, and you’re going to share it all with us.”

Two thick yellow claws pinched the Irkens antenna between their tips.

“And you’ll want to know, over the years we’ve gotten particularly good at…  _ Squashing bugs _ .”

Red had to admit- the Elite in question was doing a surprisingly good job of holding their composure, even as the claws pinched that little bit tighter there was no response. Realising his threat was having no effect the Morallv began to frown, dropping the four claws of his hand onto the top of the Elites skull- easily dwarfing the smaller creatures head- and he squeezed only hard enough to promise squeezing more.

The Elite faltered. It was subtle, but all in the room noticed- She looked.  _ She looked at Red.  _ Whether for guidance, reassurance or just simply a plea for help, she looked to her leader.

The wicked smile returned to the lizards face and he pushed the small Irken over with little effort. He crossed the small room with purpose and stood before Red, craning low enough to snort hot, damp air into the Irkens face.

Reds glare remained.

“So.” A split-tongue darted out to lick yellowing teeth in excitement. “You’re the leader, are you? They really do get  _ shorter  _ each generation.”

Ignoring the quip about his height (he was the tallest of them all, why would that topic ever hurt him?) Red simply stared unbreaking and unspeaking. He had no plan. He barely even had hopes. But he  _ knew  _ he would not play this game.

The Morallv knew that too.

He’d been sitting against the wall, letting his Pak work its magic on repairing his wounds, flooding his body with suppressants for the pain emitting from every break, tear and cut on his body. But now he found himself face-down against the ground with a fresh pain ringing from his jaw and a heavy, clawed boot pressing hard on his shoulders. 

Morphine flushed a new wave of numbness through his body, and Red found himself thanking whoever on Irk decided that painkillers needed to be a Pak feature.

Until the boot pressed harder and the pain swelled again.

“I know you’re going to take the longest to break.” The bassy voice rumbled above him, Red clawed feebly at the ground with his working claws. The weight was too much for him to force off. “But the quicker you start to crack, the quicker your friends will give in to us.”

Pressing harder again, Red tried to distract himself from the pressure by focusing elsewhere- he looked for a moment to the other Elites, but the fear in their eyes made him  _ furious-  _ he listened instead, to the advice of Purple, and to the noise of his Pak. Many a time Purple had lamented about the sound of his working Pak being a reassuring one. Knowledge that you’re alive, he liked to say. It was true- nothing was more certain for an Irken than the little clicks and whirs of the life support on their backs. Quietly, he could hear the sound of a louder click, feeling a small vibration emitting somewhere from the machinery.  _ A snapped propellor on a fan _ , he mused. Of all the damage his Pak could have sustained, that was fairly trivial.

_ Crack _ .

It took all of his willpower not to give the Morallv the satisfaction of crying out as something in Reds chest went from solid to snapped. His working claws dug three deep holes beneath them, and even his broken ones twitched in pain. He hissed and clenched his eyes shut. 

The pain echoed again as the armored boot kicked him swiftly in the side- sending him crashing into the wall where he slumped, cradling his chest, staring in outrage at the candy-colored liquid that had dribbled from his teeth.

A bassy snort was the goodbye the lizard gave as it left the room.

The closest Elite rushed to Reds aid, but he only moved enough to bat the smaller Irken away.


	2. Chapter 2

Every record for their class said the same thing. Purple was a master of stealth.  
Red hadn’t believed it when Purple came up on top of their first infiltration challenge. It’d been simple; get past Irken guards, steal a keycard, and get out without being noticed.   
They went in one by one, waiting their turn expectantly, eager to prove themselves the moment their cold, militaint instructor said ‘go.’  
Go! She had shouted to Purple. Instead the lilac eyed Irken swayed from one foot to the other lazily- and flicked a single, pink keycard out, pinched between the tips of his claws idly.   
He’d gotten punched for his arrogance, but that day started his legend amongst the class- that loud, distracted, lazy and eccentric Purple reserved all his sneaking ability for the right moments.  
But it was always a game, a challenge. A dare. Never before had he been in this situation. Perched high in the shadows, pipes and cables of an enemy fortification, his Pak barely able to keep his heart rate constant as he watched the Morallv soldiers pace beneath him.  
The slight tap-tapping of his Pak legs had pushed his nerves to the edge and his experience knew to retract them, opting instead to move around in the darkness on foot. Arguably far slower, but this way he was completely silent.  
They had all been briefed on the enemy on the journey over. The lists of weaknesses and strengths displayed on repeat inside his head. The lizards were heavily armored, big, and extremely strong. As well as having a toxic venom, they were formidable. But they had their weaknesses. One- thankfully to Purples advantage- was their inability to see in low light.   
To Irken eyes, the shadows were simply a deeper shade of pink. To the lizards, they were an empty void that rendered Purple completely invisible.   
Every flashing keypad or exposed cable was a prime opportunity to create more hiding places, and- given any other situation- Purple would have delighted in plunging the base in to darkness.  
But today it was for necessity.  
Anxiously, he checked the display on his gauntlet again. Pink characters and numbers soothed his nerves- Reds Pak was still active.   
Tiny round indents in the walls, screws and bolts or metal panels all served as grapple points for thin Irken claws, Purple moving nimbly from one space to the next, across the tops of wide ventilation pipes and ledges of the ceilings. The dimly lit cobalt corridors seemed to stretch on forever, and he began to doubt his sense of direction as the doors and markings began to meld into the same sight- giving the illusion of running in circles. He perched atop a large circular pipe, surveying for any emergency hiding places, then dropped to the floor with an expert roll.   
An amber light glowed fiercely from a large screen across the hall. Antenna twitching and sensing for movement around him, Purple silently approached it and tapped the screen deftly only to realise... the language was unreadable to him. It was some primitive scrawl the lizards defaced their computers with. He managed to find a map of the level he was on, but apart from deciphering the large ‘you are here’ marker, he couldn’t learn anything more from the screen.   
With a growl of irritation, he pulled cables from his gauntlet, forcing their thin needle-like tips into any open port the screen offered. He wished- for yet another reason- that Red was at his side. Hacking was more the scarlet Irkens skill. In fact, Red succeeded over Purple in almost everything technology based- and Purple made up for the skills Red lacked. Together they were the perfect team.  
Apart, this screen would remain unhacked.  
Long black antennae twitched upright suddenly as Purple detected something- Vibrations, footsteps, from around the corner. There was a vent mere metres away, it took only seconds to tear the cover off, slip in and replace it. Perfectly timed as two Morallv guards turned into the hallway. Male and female walking side by side idly and chatting, one held a long staff with a round amber ball on the end- a weapon Purple couldn’t identify- and the female held an armful of candy bars.  
“-might have a chance this time.”   
“Unno” Muffled by a mouthful of candy, the female chewed loudly. “Ya say that each time. But each time the bugs attack us we get a bunch of them and they just all die.”  
“They do!” The other exclaimed, the sound echoing so loudly in the metal vent that it caused Purples antenna to flick back against his head. “But this time! This time I have a good feeling!”  
“You really think any of those bugs are going to give us access to their mainframe? Isn’t it, like, programmed into them that they can’t?”  
“I dunno. Maybe. Can they… Like. Think? Or is that programmed too?”  
“Why are you asking me, you idiot?”  
The male shrugged as the pair passed Purples hiding spot, turning down another nearby corridor.  
“Hey i’m just making conversation-”  
“Take a bar, and shut up.”  
Purple waited until the cacophony of stomping and crunching grew quiet before he silently undid the vent again, slipping out like a shadow.   
He placed it against the wall again with a gentle tink, Pak tools screwing it in place once more with practiced precision.  
The ground receded from beneath him suddenly as he was lurched upwards, snagged by the long metal appendages of his Pak. Panic set in for a moment and he swung around to meet the glassy snake-eyed gaze of a Morallv guard that had been lagging behind his friends.  
It snapped a candy bar on its teeth idly.   
“Fellas!” It boomed without breaking its stare on Purple, causing his sensitive antenna to flick away. “Come check out this bug I caught!”  
Thin silver blades burst forth from Purples Pak and shot towards his assailant, the spiked legs burying themselves straight into the glazed eyes locked on to him- and he was thrown down the corridor as the lizard wailed in pain, eyes covered by blood-filled claws.  
The Irken had no chance to collect himself as boots stomped hard against his back, pinning him to the metal floor. Snacks littered the ground around him as the female lizard forsook them to grab at the dancing Pak legs, managing to grab hold of one and tear it in half with a wild show of sparking electricity. Three remaining daggers proved too quick for her as Purple directed them to slash across her torso, taking pieces from armor and leaving bloodied lines in the thinner places. She swung wildly, trying to wrangle the deft blades.  
Taking the opportunity, Purple managed to throw her off balance and off his back, swiftly rolling to a crouch and pausing only to hiss in defiance.

Bright!  
Claws covered his eyes suddenly, trying to alleviate the sudden overstimulation- blinding, white light so fierce he couldn’t open his eyes again without them stinging like hot fire. Even closed, the shining burned so intensely he swore he could feel it in his Pak.  
That light!  
One eye cracked open a sliver- regretting it instantly, he found himself feeling as though he’d just stared into Irks sun- he spotted the source to his left. The remaining lizard held his staff high above his head, the light on its end flicking erratically in pulses and flashes, the Irkens sensitive eyes could only stand a second of exposure before the pain became blinding again.  
As a desperate last resort Purple summoned the blaster from inside his Pak and shot wildly in the suspect direction. He hadn’t wanted to rely on his blaster at all. For starters, his skill relied mainly in hand-to-hand combat and melee weaponry. Shooting was more Reds thing. A Pak blaster was also powerful enough to shoot through metal walls and loud enough to be heard yards away.  
Relief washed over his senses as the light returned to a normal level. He rubbed his eyes feverishly, attempting to disperse the white circle that appeared in his vision and left him blind.   
Metal creaked and cables screeched as something vital was once again torn from his Pak- vaguely sensing the presence of his blaster leave him, Purple bared his teeth to what he assumed was near him and swung the remaining legs of his Pak in a flurry around him, noting where they collided with anything that felt like it wasn’t wall or floor.  
Shapes finally began to come in to view and he could assess his situation. The light bearing lizard laid in a crumpled heap on the ground, a large hole carved in his torso with liquids and bloody lumps collecting in a puddle around him, the horrible light weapon forgotten beside him.  
The female Morallv stood ahead of him with her arms up, protecting her face from the wildly swinging blades- seeing his target now, the three thin legs all came down in a single point and pierced the lizards skull with a sound that would have disgusted a member of any other race.   
Using the skull as a leg-up, Purple ascended into the mess of cables and pipes on the ceiling once again, hiding deep in the shadows as the remaining Morallv felt blindly at the wall, clutching his bloody face with one hand, and using the other to signal the alarm from the console on the wall.  
\--

Soothing.  
He never thought he’d find a floor so comfortable.  
No- Comfortable was the wrong word. Such a relief? So pleasant? So soothing?  
The concrete was cold, icy to most- but against his swollen flesh and white-hot wounds, the cold was a welcome sensation. Laying on his side, staring unfocused ahead with his mangled arm pinned between the floor and his body, Red inhaled sharply- following the breath into his body, where it twanged off broken bones and sent pain rippling through his torso.  
Everything was sore. He’d been through a lot, as an Elite. He was hard to defeat- but that didn’t mean he left unscathed from classes and brawls. Broken bones, slashes from weapons and claws, punctures from lances, they were all experiences he had under his belt. But this was all so much at once. His Pak suppressed pain, yet there was so much for it to deal with it couldn’t address them all. Somewhere in the distance his antenna picked up the vibration of something unusual, but he was too focused on his own predicament to wonder. The irkens around him had all received a similar welcome over the course of the night and all were a sad example of Elites. A few had collapsed, curling around on themselves in pain, some were bearing it as well as Red himself- sitting or laying motionless, reserving their energy. At least one, Red assumed, had died from the assault.  
An attempt at dislodging his arm was stopped with a hiss, Red wanted to be stronger- at least be strong enough to sit upright, but his body wouldn’t permit it. The frustration building inside him was nothing he’d experienced before, he’d occupied his mind with brutal ways to tear lizards apart and images of him doing it, but now his mind wandered again. To here. This grimey, dark, damp cell, covered with generations of- he assumed- Irken blood.   
He was meant to be stronger.  
The irken near him scuttled backwards as Red exhaled through his teeth, angry, flexing his working claws. This wasn’t meant to happen. He’d failed the Empire. And it happened so early in his legacy. He hadn’t even finished his Elite training! He’d never piloted anything bigger than a Voot, and the only planets he’d been to outside of Irken rule were the ones meant for Elite training- one he’d failed on!  
One he would die on.  
He wanted to be an invader. He wanted to sink entire races with his own claws- he was destined to be a terrible force.   
But instead, he would bleed out in some forgotten cell, succumbing to the wounds induced by a big reptiles blunt blows.   
He unclenched his teeth, letting his claws relax and his antenna droop. Thoughts turning to Purple- His closest companion. Purple had made it out. He was certain of that. Tailing only a few feet behind his friend- always in proximity- Red had watched the Elite flagship descending on the horizon. They were en route to return to their normal lives. Back to class and back to assignments.   
And Red had looked back. One finally gloating smirk at the lizards on their tail. He stopped to insult them.   
But that stupid light caught his attention- that one moment of distraction was his downfall.   
All he could do now was regret. The flagship left. He heard it. The Empire didn’t bother with captured Irkens, they were unworthy.   
This was the end.

As if prompted by his thoughts, something changed. Something terrible. They all felt it.

Reds eyes snapped open and he sat up against his body's protests- looking around the other Irkens with him had the same response. They felt the same thing. Wide eyed and antenna bolt-upright they all exchanged terrified glances, then looked to Red who only mirrored their fear.  
Working claws shook like leaves as he brought them to the opposite gauntlet. He tapped the holographic keys slowly, fear mounting in the room as the Irkens all came to the same conclusion.  
The screen popped up over his gauntlet.   
There was no writing, no report from his Pak, nor rank or any information.  
There was only static on a blank screen.


	3. Chapter 3

Clawing like a feral animal he slipped from the rounded pipe he was travelling across. Sharp scratches across the metal made a cacophony of noise as he slipped down, breathless and dizzy.  
Something was wrong.  
Unable to get a grip, he fell, barely breaking his fall with the three working legs of his Pak. Shaking a foggy cloud from his head he quickly realised the predicament his fall had put him in and he darted for the closest hiding point-a random pile of crates, barrels and storage containers. Ducking in deep and making himself as small as possible in the shadows, he struggled for breath.   
Purple ignored the group of lizards stomping around the hallway looking for the source of the noise, his attention focused on typing rapidly on the screen of his gauntlet. Entering the same digits he was so accustomed to, he prayed to Irk that the feeling of dread he was suffering with wasn’t related to Red…  
Yet the pink screen was gut-wrenchingly void of any normal information, showing only a series of numbers.

Code 437

The sounds of the Morallv boots faded out of existence for Purple- his antenna quivered and drooped, raking his memory for the meaning of that code as despair began to settle deep in his ‘spooch.  
They’d been briefed on Pak codes in one of the earliest classes, desperately he tried to recall the meaning of 437. Codes like these were typically used in the aftermath of a battle or incursion, to let the Empire decipher what had happened. 148 was the most common code, it meant that the organic host for the Pak- the body, had been destroyed. Purple had committed that one to memory. 361 meant that the Pak had been removed forcibly and ceased function from sustaining severe damage. 362 meant the same, but the addition of the body dying off first.

Code 437…

Purple sucked a breath through his teeth. That code was a precaution. Specifically appearing only when Irken were captured. In order to preserve their secrets, and prevent any prying aliens from gaining access to their technology, the Empire ordered the Paks connection to be severed.

They had switched off Reds Pak.

Typing in a flurry, Purple searched for the few other IDs he could recall; finding all that had been absent from the rendezvous- not that he paid them any real attention then- showed the same Pak code.  
The empire had abandoned them all.  
He tried to focus on the threat at present, watching the small pod of lizards shrug and cease their searching as they seperated down different corridors. Purple was eager to get moving again, he had to act quickly… Time was even more dire, now.  
Voices of his various instructors echoed in his head as he replayed the memories of his classes. Paks were vitally important, sustaining life itself for Irkens, but their function was heavily reliant on the Empire. An Irken without a Pak was doomed to die. But as well, an Irken without a Pak was a soldier without a commander- and deemed a threat to the Empire. Without direct connection to their collective a Pak was programmed to cease all function. Like a battery losing charge, their life-sustaining features would begin to wane. Small things at first, the power of their ocular implants would fade, their Pak would no longer prioritise suppressing pain, then it would stop suppressing weak, primitive emotions like fear, and eventually…   
Purple slipped from his hiding place hastily, keeping low and keeping to the shadows.  
The Paks would become too weak to sustain vital functions like breathing and blood circulation. The function of the relevant organs were long lost to Irken ‘evolution’ and without the Pak, the organic host could not survive.  
He’d intentionally distract himself during those classes. Red enquired once, asking why Purple insisted on getting his attention every few seconds to whisper something stupid or silently torment a smaller Elite between them, and Purple had dodged the question. In truth, it scared him. Death was for inferior Irkens. He had no fear of it. Even if he were struck down- it’d be in the middle of a heated, epic battle, not… Slowly and tortiously. The thought of watching ones body decay as the mind followed along sluggishly… It petrified him.  
And it was so much worse when Red admitted that he shared that fear.  
The corridors were getting darker and less hospitable as he pressed on. The further he delved down them, the less they looked like quarters or common rooms; far less inviting. Crates and barrels began to appear in mass littering the walls, inspecting some he found various primitive weapons like spears and maces- and a single orb that resembled the light from the staff, which he promptly smashed on the ground- he figured he was nearing an arsenal. The subtle decorations on the walls had shifted from soft and pleasantly colored panels and shapes to hard cobalt metal, the occasional angular spike splitting the wall. Sharp columns supported a wire-riddled ceiling, resembling a mass of worms.  
He passed a wide open doorway, spying ships of different sizes parked across a blue-painted hanger. Committing that area to memory he pressed on. Purple could still hail ships, but he wasn’t certain that they would arrive quickly enough- or at all- and preferred to simply steal an inferior Morallv vessel.  
Antenna perked upwards as he caught a familiar scent. Wafting from a hallway mere metres away he urged his Pak to squash his senses for a moment- the smell was overpowering. Familiar to him, in smaller bursts, from training at the academy. The smell of blood.  
It smothered him like a fog, hesitantly he approached as his ‘spooch went into a fit of disgust. It didn’t smell of the coppery, salty substances that came from other fleshy races. It was Irken blood.  
A plain, uninteresting door was the source of the smell at its strongest. Purple knew it was the door to a cell. He swallowed nervously- not certain if he was brave enough to pass through this portal. The scent of death was suffocating him and his imagination was beginning to run wild, even with his Paks attempts at suppressing his fear.  
Claws stretched out hesitantly ahead of him, faltering before they made contact with the door. Trying to steady his shaking hands he swallowed nervously and-  
The door began to open.  
There had been a split second of opportunity. He acted on reaction, digging his Pak legs into the metal above the doorframe and launching himself upwards and onto a ledge there. A lizard sauntered his way out, glancing absently over his shoulder as he left the room. Candied pink liquid dripped from his claws and knuckles.  
A thin needle-like spike slipped into the space of the automatic door, the mechanism whirring for a moment as it tried to close against the Pak leg. Jamming a couple more spikes in there, Purple managed to force it open and slipped in the cell. He broke a piece from the fourth, ruined leg, and wedged it in place before turning to survey the room- and stumbled backwards.  
It was all just as his fearful mind had imagined. There was a small collection of Irkens littered about the room, limp and unmoving. New blood splatters decorated walls and floors, adding to the marks that had been there for decades. The damp, heavy scent of the cell was overwhelming and Purple had to clutch his forehead to regain his composure.   
He scanned the dim room quickly, finding the target he so desperately sought. Red sat against the far wall; head bowed, eyes closed, his antenna limp and his uniform bloodied. Purple was cautious to approach, ghosting his claws along a mangled broken arm, too fearful to touch in case he might cause more damage- and he knelt in front of his partner.  
He brought his hand to Reds face, delicately avoiding his skin with the tips of his claws and pressing the palm against his friends cheek in an effort to stir him.  
His gauntlet was wrenched downwards quickly and painfully- he should have seen that coming- claws leaving a few thin cracks in the small console there. Crimson eyes squinted, unfocused, as the owner hissed through his teeth in warning.  
“Red!” Purple pleaded, trying to break free with little conviction, hoping instead that Red would let him go.  
The Irken gawked for a moment, realisation settled in and he ripped his working claws away- only to swat Purple across the chest full-force, knocking him off balance.  
Purple landed on his backside with a graceless ‘oof’.  
“What are you doing here?” Red shouted, but his voice lacked the intensity it usually did. He sounded exhausted and hoarse.  
“Saving your sorry ass.” Purple rubbed his own sore quarters, shooting an accusing glare at his partner. The expression faded quickly as he surveyed the damage once more.   
Sensing his eyes, Red bristled- “You should be aboard the flagship.”  
“And so should you!” He countered, through his arms up angrily. “Now let’s go!”  
Grabbing the crimson gauntlet and tugging gently, Purple tried to stir Red from his spot, but the Irken cast his gaze to the claws laying limp in his lap and ignored his partners insistence.  
“I can’t.”  
The resignation in that voice turned to daggers that cut straight through into Purples Pak; he felt the mechanisms within it stop for a split moment as he turned to his partner. Reds exhausted, defeated form seemed to slump further down the wall as he avoided Purples gaze. “I’ve failed, Pur. I’m unworthy. The empire has cut connection to my Pak, even if I left-”  
“They could reconnect you, let's go!”  
Red shook his head. “They don’t just do that for anyone that just shows up the control brains door. I’ve failed and failures are deactivated.”  
“No!” Purple snarled, more intensely than he’d meant. If Red wouldn’t walk out on his own legs, then Purple would drag him. He lunged at his friend, wrapping his arms around his torso and lifting- Until Red cried out in pain and he promptly let go.  
“You jerk-” Red whimpered, breathless. “My Pak can’t suppress pain anymore don’t you dare come near me again or-”  
“You’ll what, bleed on me some more?” Gently this time, he put his claws on the sides of the bloodied chest, trying to aid Red in standing up- but the Irken didn’t accept the gesture and remained unmoving.  
“Go away, Purple.”   
His voice was cold.  
The intruding Irken pulled his claws back to his chest, gripping them together nervously as he studied Red. This was out of character, he didn’t… Know what to do. Red had always been strong, but that could often work against him. He held ideas fiercely and little could be done to sway him, if he was certain of this…  
Purple opened his mouth to say something witty and dismissive back, ready to try coaxing Red out again- not this feeble, defeated creature that sat before him- but vibrations hit his sensitive antenna and he spun around, looking in fear at the door. Something was coming, and he had mere seconds before he was sealed away to face the same fate as his comrades. He moved then faltered- turning to Red again, he placed his claws on the Irkens cheek and tried to let his eyes promise- I promise I’ll come back- and then he darted through the jammed door.  
All the reptiles saw was a blur pass by them, then looked to the open portal- and chaos broke loose. One made certain the door was sealed and the rest took chase.


	4. Chapter 4

It took hours for Purple to shake them.  
Retreating to an abandoned, dusty room and hiding himself away in the corner beneath old crates and pallets, he’d resigned to sitting in silence. His Pak whirred and clicked feverishly on his back as it focused on soothing his organic body.  
What now?  
He was lost. Both in terms of maps, and goals- he thought the hard part had been getting in, it never occurred that Red would refuse to get out.  
He nibbled idly on the tips of his claws. Red was a stubborn jerk. In any other situation, Purple would physically force the other, but pain, true pain, was not something he was familiar with and he was hesitant to inflict it on his friend. Plus, he had no real plan for escape. He flopped onto his back, throwing up a cloud of dust around him, and stared at the dark, unlit bulbs on the ceiling above him.  
Noise travelled down the hallway outside and he sat upright again, pak legs extending in anticipation. He growled quietly at himself, at this image. Here he was hiding away in the darkness, afraid of footsteps outside like some inferior prey creature, while his friend was likely dying rooms away.  
He hooked his metal legs into the vent above him, leaping in with new found intensity and he weaved through the ventilation pipes, pausing only to peak at the rooms beneath him, until he arrived at the hanger. Rounded Morallv heads bobbed a few stories beneath him as they patrolled, he waited until they all separated into different corners and he dropped from the ceiling, landing onto a banister overlooking the lower level of the hanger.  
Humming almost silently, he scanned the interior of the ground-level ship base. The ships were all varying shapes and sizes but kept a uniform theme. Boxy, ugly, primitive things painted blue and orange, that looked like floating boulders when compared to something as advanced as an Irken Spittle Runner. The larger ships were far too large to be an option for escape, they were designed to carry multiples of the sluggish, heavy lizard creatures at once- their engineers favouring space over functionality. He sprinted quickly along the banister and leapt to the floor beneath, landing silently beside one of the smaller ships. It was a one-person ship to a Morallv, but it was roomy enough to fit several Irkens. Pressing his claws to the blue-colored cockpit he inspected the inside- the controls seemed fairly simple, and the rear of the ship boasted a few decent looking thrusters. This ship was made for speed. Not that these reptiles knew what ‘quick’ was- It was merely faster than their own ships, and that was all Purple needed.  
His claws traced the edge of the ship trying to find a way to access the controls, pausing as he spied the heavy metal landing gear attached to the floor beneath the craft. They were large, vice-like claws that clamped the ship in place, he tugged at them with his own fingers. Unsurprisingly, they didn’t move.  
No matter, when it came to escape he would merely call out his blaster and…  
He glanced over his shoulder, doing exactly what he intended in his plan. A sad, bent and headless metal appendage emerged from his Pak and sparked a few times to emphasize the lack of said blaster.  
Blades through the brain was far too kind for that stupid lizard, he scowled.  
No matter- Red still had a functioning blaster, when it came to escape, he could be the one to blow up the landing gear and free the ship. The thought of Red, toting his weapon around like the trigger happy fool he was, wicked smirk on his face- it made Purple snicker.  
Darting to the underside of the next ship, then the one behind it, he crossed the hanger unnoticed and slipped through the main door to the base.  
Retracing the steps he took hours before, he weaved through corridors and across open rooms. Carefully avoiding the patrolling lizards, he ducked behind pallets of weapons and metal armor, climbed into vents or disappeared into dark shadows when he needed. He couldn’t help the feeling of wicked pride growing inside him at how simple it was to evade these fools. He barely had to try.  
Hearing Red’s words echo in his head, he urged himself to focus. “Don’t get cocky, Purple.” Reds memory glared, a hidden smirk barely showing on his lips. “You get cocky on a mission and you’ll get caught.”  
If only he’d listened to his own advice.

They’d caught on, he pinched the tip of one claw between the others anxiously, lilac eyes watching intently from his shadowed hiding spot. There’s a guard now, standing at the door of the cell, looking bored. A shorter, rounder, orange-skinned lizard that leaned against the wall between the door and a console, flicking his claws idly against a polearm that stood taller than he did. Purple surveyed the room, grasping around for inspiration of a plan. The distance between him and the guard was too great for a direct attack; he would be spotted long before he landed a hit on anything vital, and given the guards proximity to the console it would be easy for him to sound the alarm. Purple could quickly retreat into hiding in that situation, but it would likely send some unwanted attention towards Red.  
Standing as high as he dared, he peeked into the boxes surrounding him. The irony of being a base under constant attack by the Irkens was that the Morallv kept weapons on hand at all time- weapons that this Irken was eager and willing to use against them, he slowly and quietly removed what he believed to be a Morallv dagger, though to him, it was longer than his gauntlet- and he retreated back into his hiding spot.  
The lizard scratched idly at his nostrils.  
Slipping the handle flat against his palm, Purple held the blade behind him, claws pointed down the sharp metal as though holding a shard of ice.  
He held his breath, and threw it deftly.  
Then closed his eyes and considered praying to Irk.  
The lizard collapsed forward onto his knees, weakly pawing at the space beside his head before continuing his downward motion, his chest hitting the ground with a loud thud.  
The blades handle protruded from his temple, a puddle of blood rapidly growing beneath the glassy-eyed face.  
Sighing in relief, Purple wasted no time and hastily approached the body, frisking it for anything that might gain him access to the cell. A key, a card, even a thumb if the door required a print scanner- and he found a bracer humming with energy and glowing with intricate technology mounted on the beasts wrist. When it didn’t come loose on its own, he hacked at the muscle until he could wriggle it off.  
The reader by the door beeped in approval as he held the bracer against it. The door scraped open angrily, and Purple worried for a moment that it may catch a passerbys attention, but he didn’t wait to find out.  
He burst into the cell and inspected it quickly again- choosing to ignore the obvious decline in numbers- one or two Irkens looked at the door in fear, recognising the sound of the reader at the door and knowing what would typically follow it through. Their fear became surprise at the sight of the Irken.  
He ignored them, going straight to Red.  
The injured Elite lay on his side this time, one antenna was snapped halfway up the base and the top half angled away. Pink blood stained his armor, his skin, and had dried in trails from his mouth. His eyes cracked open at the disturbance, having the strength to do no more than glare- realising who it was that stood before him, he exhaled a shaky breath and closed his eyes again.  
Purple wasn’t ignored so easily, he slipped his claws under Reds shoulders and sat him upright, ignoring the yelp of protest that his partner gave. Lilac eyes fixed fiercely on tired crimson and Purple hissed back.  
“We’re going.”  
Closing his eyes again, Red had no response.  
“I said we’re going, Red.”  
Stubbornly he ignored again.  
“Red!” Purple snapped, flicking his claws against the intact antenna and causing Red to jump, eyes open and glaring at the assault. “I can’t get off this planet on my own, my Pak blaster is ruined and I need it to get the ship free. You are coming with me whether you like it or not just so I don’t die here, too!”  
Reds glare softened to a sad stare and he batted Purples claws away. “My Pak won’t respond to me, I can’t call my blaster out if I wanted to.”  
The other Irken scoffed in response. “Your Pak might be cut off but the mechanics still work fine, let’s go.”  
“I’ve tried already, it won’t obey me.”  
“Tell it louder, then! Come on!”  
“I can’t call my blaster out, I need the permission of my rank to do that, without the Empire I have no rank which means no permission. Idiot.”  
Purple raised a non-existent eyebrow, looking at his partner queerly.  
“What about your Pak legs?”  
Red shrugged.  
“It won’t work.”  
“Have you actually tried?”  
“I’m telling you, Purple, it won’t work.”  
It stayed silent for a beat as they stared at each other. Purple tilted his head and glared accusingly. “You’re really giving up?”  
The creature across from him kept his stone-wall expression. “I don’t get a choice.”  
“You’re really just going to let yourself die here?”  
“The Empire decided that for me.”  
“You’re really going to be outdone by the ones that made it back, like Zim?”  
Red bristled.  
“-Or Skoodge. They’re going to finish their training, you know.”  
“Shut up.”  
“- And you won’t, caus you’ll be dead.”  
“Don’t be a jerk, Purple, I’m not happy about this either-”  
“-You won’t because you gave up.”  
A savage expression contorted across Reds face as that scenario ran through his head- exactly as Purple had intended, nothing got his friend more riled up than the idea of being second best, or Zim, combining the two had the perfect result. Until, the expression faded and that meak, uncharacteristic look of defeat fell over Reds features again.  
“Whatever.” Was the grand finale.

Resignation mirrored in Purple, he tried to stop his shoulders drooping as Reds did. He sighed, cupping the other Irkens cheeks in his hands and leaning close- crimson eyes closed knowing this ritual, one they’d acted out in any time of need where their nerves got the better of them or their anger took control. Their Paks created an endless supply of electricity which surged through their bodies at all times- as they pressed their heads together, eyes closed, they waited for the familiar zap of the two circuits meeting, a soothing spark that reminded them of the others presence. Except, with one half of the circuit broken, the spark did not come. Lilac eyes remained closed as he spoke-  
“We’re going.”  
It was an order.  
Ignoring all protest he pulled Red upwards, to his feet- and the Irken stumbled immediately as his legs gave way, Purple barely catching him in time before he fell to the ground again.  
Maybe he had been a bit too eager with his battered friend.  
Had he not been preoccupied with the extreme amount of pain he was in, Red would have been tearing strips off of Purple- both with words and with claws. He managed, against all his expectations, to plant the soles of his boots on the ground but the moment his weight shifted back under him, his legs threatened to buckle again.  
It was embarrassing. Having to cling to Purples side for support. Silvery Pak legs wrapped around him gently to aid him in staying upright, and he was lead slowly- at Reds demand- from the room.  
Red gave his partner a queer look at the sight of the dead lizard as they stepped over it, the blade still protruding proudly like a grizzly trophy. Purple just smiled a toothy smile. 

The trip to the hanger was agonisingly slow. They’d been extremely lucky, managing to avoid the high-traffic areas of the base- mostly to Purples credit, as he’d learned the most favourite routes. They’d snuck into the hanger through a maintenance shaft, their pace faltering the closer they got to their goal as Red tired. But once the promised ship was in sight the battered Irken was practically dragged to it and allowed to flop against the side of the metal craft.  
Purple busied himself with the cockpit, managing to pop the glass chamber open. It swung with so much force it nearly clipped him on the chin and he fell backwards with a thud. Red spent enough energy to give him a disapproving look before closing his eyes again.  
Barbaric alien language scrawled across the screen within the cockpit, Purple leaned in far enough to search for anything that resembled a mechanism or a button to allow the landing gear to unlock- and finding none he slipped his upper half out again, turning to Red. And he did something all Irkens were reminded to never do.  
He forced the top panel of Reds Pak open, delving his claws in deep to the mechanisms within. Red shot upright suddenly in alarm, teeth clenched and eyes wide- the sensation akin to another race having thin, probing claws within their skulls.  
Metal and cables reacted involuntarily, turning on the assaulting claws and trying to force them out. Purple found the Pak legs first- or they found him, as they slashed at his gauntlets, he ignored them and continued to dig around in the enigma of Irken technology in an attempt to find the blaster. He encountered Reds favoured tablet next, one he’d tap away idly on whenever Purple was bored and trying desperately to get his attention. A tube of some sort wrapped around his wrist and he wrenched the arm free from the Pak, making Red shudder in response.  
After what felt like an eternity his other hand clawed at a gun-like shape and he pulled it outwards, the mechanism whirring and clicking as it refused to be coaxed free. Wrangling it as far as he could, and pointing it to the landing gear, he pulled the trigger that existed only for situations like these.  
Bang!  
Pink fire exploded blindly around the claw-like vice. The sound reverberated off the walls and the force shook a few things loose from a nearby bench, clattering to the floor with loud metallic clangs. The ship rocked, teetering to one side.  
As voices began to shout from the main door to the base, Purple scooped up his shaken friend and dumped him unceremoniously into the ship, jumping in after and kicking the ship into action. 


	5. Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to return to the safety of Irk and go back to normal life... Right?

He should have been grateful for the smashed glass. If it weren’t for the great hole in the ships view they might have just choked to death on the billowing smoke filling the cockpit. But criss-crossed with tiny cuts and with shards in his claws, Purple found himself unable to be thankful for… Anything, really. All he had was lots and lots of anger.   
Red would have reasoned that the ground was something to be thankful for, but Purple would have quickly argued that if it weren’t for the ground the ship would still have wings, and if it weren’t for the Moralv turrets they would still be in the air. Probably in space.   
But instead Purple was collapsed on the console before him, groaning with pain and disorientation, coughing smoke and blood and whatever else decided to tour his lungs. His armor was split from taking most of the impact, the only sound he heard was the hissing and clicks of exposed, snapped wires sparking around him. Frayed ends of cables spasmed with light, illuminating the dark interior with every random flicker. The screen Purple leaned on was no different, sputtering in its own feeble attempt at staying alive despite the cobweb-like cracks in the glass. Claws dragged down the mangled console as Purple stirred, pushing himself upright while he tried to confirm that he was actually still alive. The pain ringing in his jaw made that clear, and the dribble of pink blood from between his teeth was visible evidence as it dripped onto the screen. Or at least, half of it was visible, the left side was nothing but pain and touching his claws to his face just made it far worse- as the tips met the exposed, bloody wound that ran from above his left eye and down to his mouth, a gouge that rendered that entire eye useless.  
Their escape certainly could have gone better.  
Being a Morallv ship, a one-person flyer had room to fit many Irkens and offered a generous interior large enough for both Elites to stand in and even stretch their arms without worrying about touching, but after having a plasma cannon tear through the hull the space had become remarkably… Smaller. Chunks of metal had been dislodged from the walls and filled the space, containers and oddities spilled free from their restraints and littered the floor, and in the midst of it Red sat, exhausted beyond all reason and watching Purple with a look that said two things- he just wanted to go back to Irk, and Purple was to blame for the crash. Typical.  
But Purple was still relieved to see him looking no more scratched-up than he had been prior to their little fall, it seemed that Purple had taken most of the share of injury. He half-stepped half-fell from the oversized Moralv chair, his legs on the brink of failing as he found even more wounds across his person, but he pushed on to Reds side. The Irken was awake, but so tired it was clear he would need a hand getting out of the ruins.  
“You’re a lousy pilot.” He knew that jab was coming the moment the ship was struck, but Red still had to rub it in as Purple crouched before him.   
“Yeah I blow up the ships in the simulation every time.” He snickered, and Red did the same- seeing their Commander drag her claws down her face in exasperation had become a familiar sight for both of them. “If you bothered to drive this thing we might have been fine but you just wanted to sit on the floor and be lazy!”  
The playful tone in his voice was a stark contrast to the blood trickling down his face and the smashed, flickering technology behind him. It might have been the shock, but it was a comfort regardless and Red mirrored it. “I thought I’d give you the chance to step up, you know? You thought you were so cool taking out that lizard before.”  
“I am cool.” It was said without a hint of doubt. Purple touched his hands to Reds torso, prodding him to move as he inspected for any new wounds. A ship crash wasn’t the end of the world for an Irken, but without his Pak functioning like normal what would be an inconvenience became a threat. Muscle repaired, skin healed and bones mended with time- if you were lucky enough to have a Pak attached.  
He stopped to hiss a breath through his clenched teeth as claws met his own skin, gently trailing the edges of the wound splitting his face. Reds expression was unreadable, glossy crimson eyes looking as disinterested as ever and making it hard to tell what he was thinking, if he was mocking Purples situation or his skill, if he was thinking about their luck or if- in a very unirken way- he was concerned.  
“You look stupid.”  
Well, that made it clear. Purple swatted the hand away. “How am I meant to look with an eyeball missing?!”  
“Missing? Gross.” Using Purples shoulder as leverage, Red rose shakily to his feet, already his breathing was ragged and his body looked on the verge of slumping. The form he leaned on let him stay, and Purples claws offered extra support. “Do you think they’ll chase us?”  
The thought had crossed Purples mind, he shrugged in response. Who knew what a lizard thought? Were two Elites worth chasing? If it had been two Morallv escaping an Irken base… Then yes, they most certainly would come after them as no one escapes the clutches of Irks claws. “Probably, we need to get away from this ship, that smoke cloud is a total give away.”  
Nodding in agreement Red tried to take the lead. Tried, but he needed Purples assistance to get anywhere and climbing through the rubble was proving difficult, especially when they reached the short drop out of the ship's smashed cockpit. Pak legs made the distance a joke, and Purple almost made the leap on his own from habit but stopped at the mouth of the opening.  
“Can you jump?”  
“It’s not that far.” Red stared hesitantly at the ground, and Purple realised he was weighing up his strength and how likely he was to fall- not considering the easier option.  
“It’s even less if you use your Pak legs like some kind of not-idiot.”  
Realisation that he’d been sprung- and Purples bad insult- had Red bristle immediately, he liked to think he wasn’t that transparent but his friend could read him in an instant… And knew that Red still refused control over his Pak. “You’re the idiot, did you forget that my Pak kind of- you know- doesn’t work anymore?!”  
“Your blaster worked fine when I had it!”  
“That was a fluke!” Red threw his hands up in exasperation, nearly falling back as he let go of Purple to make the gesture- and the swing of his arms being enough to throw him off balance.  
“Yeah well make your Pak legs a fluke, too!”  
“That’s not how flukes work you-” he grit his teeth. “Whatever, drop it. My Pak leg’s don't work, I’m just going to climb down.”  
Clearly, Purple didn’t agree with the idea, but the only warning he gave was the wicked smirk before he lunged towards Red. The thin, silvery spider legs extended from his Pak and clanged against the metal ship. Grabbing someone with cracked ribs and a bruised body wasn’t the kindest thing to do, but Purple was more impatient than kind, he squeezed his arms around Reds chest and lifted them both with the aid of his Pak, ignoring the squirming and pained protest coming from the other as he propelled from the damaged ship before hitting the mossy ground below with a quiet thud and promptly dropping Red on it. In a better situation Red would have dug his claws into Purples busted eye as a thank you for that kind treatment, but for the moment he could only writhe in front of violet boots, hugging his chest in pain as he glared through squinted eyes.  
“You jerk!”  
“You’re welcome! Get over it, will you?”  
“No! My Pak wont heal me, Purple! That really hurt!”   
A snarky comment played across Purples brain in response, but Red didn’t seem keen on playing around so the comment stayed deep in the meaty part of Purples thinking. The reality of the Paks slow shutdown was becoming concerning again, now that the fog of the crash was beginning to wear off, and a little bit of regret was forming from being so careless. Purple offered a guilty hand to the fallen Irken and helped him to his feet once more.  
“Hey, uh… Plurps?”  
Antenna twitched, Purple knew that tone- Reds head was going somewhere it shouldn’t. “Whaaaat.” He whined back to make it clear that he’d not be patient with whatever his friend was about to unload.  
“Do you… Remember the stages for a Pak shutdown?”  
“No.” He said flatly. “Don’t think about it.”  
An exasperated look crossed Reds expression, as though he were waiting in line for something important and shiny and Purple had just cut ahead. A look of total annoyance and Purple was the source. “I want to know what stage I’m at!”  
“Well I don’t!”   
Purple threw his hands up in agitation and turned away, he wasn’t meant to sound concerned but.. He was. Giving anymore thought to the situation made his insides squirmy and itched his claws to help Red, as if helping him to his feet was enough of an effort to save him from a slow death. Huffing he tried hard to think of something more to say, to change the topic and bring an end to the awful, uncomfortable silence between them. Aside from the cracking of fire from the fallen ship.  
“Blockers are first, I remember that much.” Red seemed to be talking to the air rather than his partner, one hand against his chin in thought and head tilted up to look at nothing. “Like pain, and fear and all of those.”  
“Red-”  
“So that’s stage one. Stage two is the organic part starts to lose strength, right? Breathing gets hard and moving’s all sore and stuff.”  
Purple finally turned to face Red again. He’d stay on the topic unless Purple interjected, but what did he have to say? He didn’t want to hear about it, think about it or imagine it happening. But now Red was talking for Reds sake.  
“I think stage three is that but worse. Limbs stop working, organs shutting down…” Purple shuddered as stories from Elite training came to mind. Tales of Irkens meeting slow and painful deaths behind enemy lines after being severed from their life-giving Paks. Their instructors always loved to go into grizzly details and at the time he lapped it up, laughing in tandem with Red at the thought of these idiots meeting their fate in such a humiliating way. No guts and glory, exploded in battle.  
“Stage four…?”  
“You cough your guts up.” Purple finished for him, and Red finally glanced his way. His expression said everything, and Purple was sure his said the same. Reaching the last stage meant Red died in a bloody, agonising mess.  
“I think I’m at two, then?” The casualness in Reds voice stung, making lilac eyes wince. He sounded as though he were watching an arena battle play out on the holoscreen, giving an idle commentary as the battle beasts gnashed their great teeth and ground prisoners and defects alike into bloody dust and broken bones. Watching the flow of the scene before him and trying to predict the outcome, calling out the trends to Purple as if he didn’t see them.   
But he saw, he saw the slouch in Reds shoulders and the exhaustion in his eyes. Blood trickling from splits in his skin, dark bruises mottling wherever his armour didn’t cover. One arm still limp and broken. If his Pak had power, he’d be using that arm already.  
“Your Pak is running out of power, right?”  
“Right.”  
An idea was playing on Purples mind, one that took a few laps of Red to come together. He circled in thought, eyes on the grubby Pak attached to the other. There were dints in the surface, dried blood and dirt dulling the metal and giving it a strange tint.. “I wonder if we could give it power?”  
“Did you want to use the smashed ship? Maybe a tree?” The dryness in Reds' voice spoke volumes for what he thought of the idea. Paks were an enigma to even the Irkens who specialised in their repair, understanding how to repair one was beyond their knowledge. Understanding what would be compatible to them was impossible, equal to an ant learning space travel- but only had a matter of hours to do it. “Nothing here will charge a Pak, even if we get into that base again there’s still nothing to use.”  
“Idiot.” Purple snickered, claws outstretched before him to press gently on the top panel of Reds Pak. Usually, his hand would be met with vibration as the mechanisms whirred away inside, working on all the millions of tasks assigned to the mechanical brains. Now there was barely a tremor as it had fallen back to emergency power, conserving its effort for the more important jobs. “We’ve got my Pak.”


End file.
